passage outside my room, and if you closed your eyes and listened really hard, you could hear the “beep beep” of all the machines in the ICU. And every now and then you would hear a very loud “Beeeeeeeeeeeep,” followed by a lot of noisy commotion. That was the part I didn’t like.
I walked over to the door and peered out. The small waiting room had been empty for a while, but now, it wasn’t. I was shocked when I saw what I did, and at first it frightened me, so I quickly hid behind the door before he could see I was staring at him. My heart pounded in my chest. I’d never seen so much blood before, and I’d been living in a hospital for almost two years and had so many operations I couldn’t even count them. When I’d mustered up the courage to look again, I peered around the doorframe, only my forehead and eyes looking out.
In the waiting room, all alone, was a boy. Maybe a bit younger than me. He was staring off into the distance at a spot on the wall, as if he was waiting for something to happen. I followed his eyes and looked at the wall, thinking I might see something there. But I didn’t. He was staring at a blank wall with a faraway look in his eyes that made me feel scared. His shirt was covered in blood. It was everywhere. His pants too. It was dry, though. It wasn’t like it was dripping on the floor or anything like that, but still, it was everywhere. And then I saw a man in a uniform, a paramedic, rush up to the boy and wrap a blanket around his shoulders.
“Your dad will be here soon,” the man said to the boy, rubbing big circles on his back. But he didn’t move, he just continued to look at the blank spot on the wall. It was actually a little creepy. Like he could see a ghost that I couldn’t. I once read that animals, especially cats, can see ghosts that we can’t, and when they stare into the distance at nothing at all, that it was actually a spirit that we are unable to see with the human eye. I wondered if he was staring at a ghost now too.
I watched the paramedic walk off a little way and then he started talking to a nurse. I got up and rushed to the other side of my room and pressed my ear up to the small window that never opens to listen.
“I have to get back on duty,” he said. “Is there someone who can sit with him? Poor kid has been through the wringer. He’s the one that called the police.”
“Shame,” one of the nurses said; I didn’t know her. She was a nurse from this floor. “I’ll make sure someone is with him.”
“We spoke to his father. He’s on his way. But will probably only be here in ten minutes.”
“Sure, we’ll keep an eye on him,” the sister said, and then the paramedic rushed off, saying goodbye and good luck to the boy. I went back up to the door and stuck my head around again, just a little so I could see. The nurse had walked over to him now and sat down.
“What’s your name?” she asked. But the boy said nothing. He just stared at the wall.
“Well, I’m Sister Esther, and I’ll be waiting with you until your dad comes. Is that alright?”
This time the boy did move. He gave the tiniest nod of his head.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked. And then she leaned in more and whispered a little. “You know, I think we have some extra chocolate pudding cups left over from dinner.”
Chocolate pudding cups . . .
The only tasty thing in the hospital. One night, Monty and I raided one of the food carts that had been left in the corridor unattended and stole six. We sat up all night stuffing our faces with them. The boy should have a pudding cup. They were super-tasty.
He looked up at her for the first time and gave her another small nod. She smiled at him.
“Will you be okay here alone for a minute while I go and fetch you one?”
The boy nodded again and the nurse rushed off down the corridor. The boy moved his head and it looked like he was going to go back to looking at the wall, only he